Pretty Little Devils Part 25

There was dead silence.

The detectives retreated from the cafeteria, done with their intimidation.

The lunch bell rang, and the PLDs pushed back their chairs.

As they walked into the quad, Josh appeared out of the crowd. He gave Sylvia a quick kiss. Hazel noticed rings under his eyes.

"Hey," he said. "I just left Kim's office. The police wanted to talk to me, but my parents said no, not without them and a lawyer present."

"Good," Sylvia told him, reaching up and tousling his hair. "Smart."

He frowned. "But doesn't that make me look guilty?"

"No," Sylvia replied. "It makes your parents look like they're not idiots." She took his hand, swinging it back and forth. "Everyone is acting like they killed her. Why would they ever think it was you?"

"Sylvia," he protested, then sighed and shook his head, reddening. "You know why. Because of...the three of us. You know."

Sylvia stared at him. "Oh my G.o.d, you're kidding," she said. "They think you killed her?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice shaking. "But if they talked to me, chances are they're coming for you too."

Hazel wondered, Would they? Would they question Sylvia Orly? And if so, what kind of skeletons would they find in her closet?

Hazel kept her eyes out for Matty again as she walked to chemistry lab. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other-on breathing, on not falling apart.

Lakshmi was waiting for her just inside the door.

"So what's up? Did Sylvia say anything about the info I gave you?"

Hazel couldn't believe her ears. With everything that was happening, Lakshmi still hungered to be in with the cool kids. It was twisted, and it mortified Hazel; she din't want to be a person of this much importance anymore.

"Lakshmi, I-I need to sit down."

"The police are questioning everybody," Lakshmi announced, following Hazel to her lab stool. She looked pointedly at the empty chair that had been Breona's. "I heard that the policeman who found her body vomited on the spot."

"G.o.d!" Hazel cried. She raked her hands through her hair and put her elbows on the lab bench. "How can you even go there?"

"I'm only telling you what I heard," Lakshmi whined.

"Why?" Hazel asked.

Lakshmi blinked rapidly. "You know," she replied.

"Take your seats, please," Ms. Carpentier called to the cla.s.s.

Lakshmi went back to her own table. Hazel sat down and opened her textbook, but she couldn't listen to Ms. Carpentier's instructions. She just fuzzed out...stopped.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, just staring at the chalkboard. The next thing she knew, Ms. Carpentier was beside her.

"Hazel, do you need to talk with someone?" the teacher asked in a whisper. "The school counselor, perhaps?"

Hazel licked her lips, trying to decide how to reply.

"This must be so difficult for you," Ms. Carpentier said. "I know you had words with her, but you must not blame yourself under any circ.u.mstances."

The teacher went to her desk and opened a spiral book. She wrote something down and tore off a slip of paper.

She returned with a slip that said, COUNSELING REFERRAL.

"I'm going to recommend that you talk to Ms. Clasen. A lot of the students are going to her for grief counseling. Just go down there and make your appointment. They'll give you a tardy pa.s.s for your next cla.s.s."

She handed Hazel the form. "Do you want someone to go with you?" she asked. "Maybe Lakshmi?"

"No," Hazel said quickly. She wouldn't be able to stand it. "I'm fine. I'll go alone."

She hurried into the hall, hanging a right to get to the administration building, and walked across the quad by the front gates of the school. She thought she could see people staring at her, and she kept her eyes down, imagining their whispers.

There goes a PLD. They hated Breona. They wanted her dead.

Hazel found Sylvia waiting for her at her locker.

"I'm calling an emergency meeting at Carolyn's," she said. "No one's home, so we'll have some privacy."

Hazel rubbed her forehead. "Sylvia, please don't tell them about Matty's file."

Sylvia examined her manicure pensively. "I do have a bit of a dilemma," she said. "It's important information."

Hazel gave her a pleading look.

"Well, they already know he's under suspicion. I guess we don't have to tell them the rest," Sylvia agreed.

"Thank you, Sylvia." Hazel's voice cracked and she let out a low sob.

"Don't cry." Sylvia pulled her into a tight embrace. "We're here for you. I'm here. I won't tell them, all right? Forget the meeting-we'll keep it between us for now."

The next morning was another rainy mess. Hazel had forgotten her umbrella again, and this time she had no defense against the weather. As she pa.s.sed by the front entrance, something caught her eye. She stopped Piles of rain-soaked flowers, candles, stuffed animals, and notes had been left by students. The ink was running down the largest note, which read, WE LOVE YOU, BREONA. A lot of the tributes were signed by people trying to wrangle some social cred-pretending they loved and missed someone who never even knew they were alive. There were photos of Breona in her cheerleading outfit and dressed for a formal.

"She had a dog," Hazel murmured to herself, studying a shot of Breona with her arms around a tiny Yorkie. She thought of Sylvia's dog, Asterix, and frowned. Something about this picture confused her.

Something about it didn't make sense.

At lunch Hazel was the first to arrive at the PLD table. She set her stuff down and went off in search of hot soup. She wasn't hungry, but she was getting shaky from not eating. She had only picked at her food at dinner, and everyone had been too busy talking about the murder to notice.

As she reached the serving line, she felt someone's gaze on her and turned her head. Across the room, Matty was standing against a window, staring at her.

She looked away.

Tight-lipped, she got her soup. She set it on her tray and managed to pay for it and get it to the PLD table without losing her mind.

By that time, the others were there. Sylvia looked from Hazel to Matty and back again; she reached across the table to squeeze Hazel's fingertips as she sat down.

"You're okay, Haze. You're fine. We're here."

Ellen said sweetly, "You need a spoon. I'll get you one."

Hazel thanked her. When she looked back at the window, she saw that Matty was gone.

Lunch ended; she swam through the day. The cla.s.srooms were steamy and smelly from the damp weather, chemistry lab failed to engage her, and she blew off Lakshmi's attempts to be friendly without even realizing that she was doing it.

The rain poured down all afternoon. Parts of the school roof began to leak. Buckets sat in corners, and the steady drip-drip-drip got on Hazel's nerves.

It wasn't until she was halfway to her car at the end of last period that she realized she had left her makeup bag in the gym bathroom. She hung a U, sighing as she shouldered past the crowds headed the other way.

Watery overhead lights illuminated the gunmetal gray lockers and cement floors of the girls' locker room. The cla.s.s of 2002 had painted a mural of ancient Greek Amazons carrying s.h.i.+elds, spears, and swords on the far wall. Still, the gym was dreary and dark, just like the day. The Amazon figures seemed shadowed and ghostly.

She walked along the first row of lockers, bisected down the middle by long wooden benches. She scanned for her bag, hoping no one had taken it. She had just gotten a ton of new Hard Candy makeup.

There it is. She saw it lying at the far end of the bench, beneath an Amazon carrying a spear. She smiled, and her face felt like it was cracking; she hadn't smiled all day.

She picked up the bag, unzipping it to see if everything was there. The rea.s.suring shapes and smells were a source of comfort.

There was a sort of buzz.

And the room fell dark.

Oh, great.

Hazel stood where she was, waiting for the lights to blink back on again. It was probably just a janitor flicking the wrong switch-or a temporary short. While she waited, she felt in her bag. Lipstick, blush, her little jar of sparkles for her cheeks. Eye shadow, mascara...

The lights didn't go back on.

"h.e.l.lo?" Hazel called.

No one answered.

"Um, h.e.l.lo?"

Footsteps echoed toward her from the end of the room. "Over he-" she began, and then she clamped her mouth shut.

Stalker. Murderer.

A wave of panic shot through her; she inhaled slowly and tried to think what to do.

More footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Cold fingers tiptoed up her spine. Goose b.u.mps broke out across her body; her hair stood on end.

She took a step backward, trying to remember the layout of the locker room. How many times had she been in here, how many hundreds of times?

Step. Step. Closer.

Hazel moved faster. She backpedaled-and slammed against a locker.

The noise echoed in the frigid silence.

Oh my G.o.d. He knows exactly where I am.

She clenched the makeup bag with all her might. The blood was roaring in her ears. Her heartbeat pounded in double time.

Closer now.

She held her breath.

Someone knocked against the wooden bench at the far end of her row. They were maybe twenty feet away from her. If they ran at her with a weapon...would she be able to get away?

Lakshmi had said the cop who found Breona threw up....

She had never been more terrified. This is really happening. Someone is in here and they're stalking me.

She tried to swallow, but she couldn't. She heard herself whimper.

Then there was a clatter of footsteps, moving away from her.

A few seconds later, the lights came on.

"Who's in here?" It was Coach Hart, with her familiar short hair, little gold earrings, and Brookhaven sweats.h.i.+rt.

"Oh G.o.d," Hazel said in a rush. She hurried toward the coach. "Someone was here, someone was creeping around-"

"I'm here now," the coach said. "Don't worry, Hazel. I'll have a look around-"

They walked together, exploring the locker room in silence, until the coach said, "You probably just heard me, coming to see why the lights were out."

"But who turned them off?" Hazel asked.

"Faulty wiring. It happens all the time when it rains. Or when the wind blows. Or when the sun s.h.i.+nes," the coach replied, with a wry expression. "But I'll contact the police, just in case."

She walked Hazel to the exit, opened the double doors, and stopped, watching the rain. "Hold on," she said.

She ran back to her office and returned with an umbrella. It was yellow with pink polka dots-ironically cheerful.

"Bring it back tomorrow," the woman ordered.

"Thank you," Hazel said.

"Sure." Coach Hart headed back toward the lounge. Hazel opened the umbrella and walked into the rain. She looked left, right, and saw a cl.u.s.ter of drama kids in black clothes as they headed for the media center theater.

Feeling very alone, Hazel half walked, half ran to her car.